OUR HOME BIRDS. 
313 
And lo ! in a moment, beneath her touch, 
A fair white dove had grown. 
“ A flock she wrought, and on the fence 
Set them in bright array, 
With folded wings, or pinions spread 
Ready to fly away. 
“ And then she hid by the pine tree tall, 
For the children’s tones rang sweet 
As home from school, through the drifts so light, 
They sped with merry feet. 
“ 1 Oh, Nannie, Nannie ! see the fence 
Alive with doves so white !’ 
1 Oh hush ! don’t frighten them away !’ 
They whisper w T ith delight. 
“ They crept so soft, they crept so still, 
The wondrous sight to see : 
The little mother pushed the gate, 
And laughed out joyfully. 
“ She clasped them close, she kissed their cheeks 
And lips so sweet and red. 
* The birds are only made of snow : 
You are my doves,’ she said.” 
27 
THE END. 
